"I'd rather get married in church," he said.
Her pale brows arched, and she blinked. "Ch-church?"
He nodded. "This marriage might be for our children, but I mean to honor the vows and I hope you do too. This won't be an open marriage where you get to sleep around."
"Of course not!" Color flooded her face and she stood. "Just because I made one mistake doesn't mean my morals are questionable. Do you make a practice of insulting your wife? If so, I might reconsider this idea."
He stood, towering over her and hating himself for the tactic. "You've agreed and we're both stuck with this deal. You've got me lassoed and on the ground." Was he trying to get her to back out by being deliberately unpleasant?
He took off his cowboy hat and ran his hand through his hair. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm not normally such a jerk. We're both under a lot of stress. Can we start over? When would you like to get married? I'd like you to have a pretty dress, and I'm happy to pay for it."
"I'll buy my own dress," she said. Her voice went husky. "Let's plan for next Saturday, ten days away. I'll need to go to Alpine to look for something "
"How about we have Faith and Kylie be flower girls?" he said.
Her gaze searched his. "Are you sure you want to tell Faith right away that you're remarrying?"
He saw the gratitude in her eyes. "It's not like you can just move into the house with no explanation. I think the girls will squeal at the thought."
"I know they will as long as you're sure. I'll need to get them dresses."
"I'll have Enrica get them."
"Enrica?"
"My housekeeper, nanny, whatever you want to call her. She was Blair's nanny, too, and she adores Faith."
"I'd rather get the dresses. I'll want them to go with mine."
"Fine." He dug out his wallet and slapped five hundred dollars on the table. "Get whatever you need for them."
"I can pay for the dresses."
She tried to give the money back, but he stepped away. "It's my contribution to the wedding. You shouldn't have to foot the whole bill. I'll check in with you tomorrow." He fled the house so he didn't have to look at her forlorn face.
8
THE CREAKING OF THE OLD WINDMILL KEPT SHANNON AWAKE FAR INTO THE night. At least she told herself that was why she tossed and turned on the old mattress. What kind of future was she setting herself up for, marrying a man she didn't love? Or know? Some kind of insanity must have swept over her for her to suggest such an idea.
She rolled over, plunging her face into the sheets scented with sage from the outdoors. It was so hot the heat shimmered in the air. She would have to get up in three hours, and she hadn't slept more than fifteen minutes. Her eyes drifted shut until something creaked overhead. Clutching the thin sheet to her chest, she bolted upright in the bed and listened to the house, which had fallen silent again. Barely daring to breathe, she strained to hear past the blood pounding in her ears. There, the noise came again, right over her head.
On the rug beside the bed, Moses growled. He stood, and the moonlight through the window illuminated the bristling fur on his neck. The sight caused the hair on the back of Shannon's neck to do the same.
The creak came again, and she looked up at the ceiling. Was someone in the attic?
There was no one to send to check it out it was her house, her job now. But she wasn't going up there. The best defense was retreat. With a gun. But it was all she could do to reach over and retrieve the revolver from the bedside stand. Her bare feet hit the cool floor, but she didn't take time to find her slippers. Moses moved to her side, and she curled her fingers around his collar. The sensation of his warm fur strengthened her resolve. Her feet knew where to avoid the creaks in her bedroom floor, and she moved across the dark room to the door.
It opened with a whisper. She sidled into the hallway with the gun trembling in her hand. She faced the direction of the attic door at the end of the narrow hall. Even from here, a draft swirled around her bare ankles. Squinting, she could make out the stairway.
The door to the attic stood wide open.
A chill raced down her spine. She had to get out of here. With her hand still clutching the dog's collar, she raced for the steps down to the first floor. Growling and lunging, Moses tried to tug away from her toward the attic stairs, but she hung on to him. With him beside her, the fear wasn't overpowering.
Her bare feet pounded down the steps. By now, the terror had climbed on top of her back and was digging in its claws. She released Moses long enough to struggle with the lock on the front door. The dog didn't try to go back upstairs, but he kept turning his head to stare up at the landing.
And he kept growling.
Panting, she fumbled with the dead bolt, but her hands were stiff and it wouldn't unlock. She dared a glance over her back at the stairs but saw nothing. Yet. She renewed her efforts at the door until her thumb found the right way to flip the lever. The old door creaked open, and she shoved the screen door so hard it banged back against the siding. She winced and glanced behind her again, but no dark form raced toward her from the stairs. The cool rush of air cleared her head when she stepped out onto the porch.
She'd left her cell phone on the nightstand, but she wasn't going back after it. The cool dirt on her bare feet made her realize she was hardly in a position to summon help. No shoes, no phone. Her gaze touched her Jeep. No keys. She'd left them on the kitchen counter.
Had she overreacted? Moses was still growling, so she didn't think so. Still, it could have been an animal in the attic.
An animal didn't enter by the stairs or open doors.
Shannon gulped. Someone was inside the house. She took a tighter grip on the pistol. "Come with me, Moses," she said. Her voice shook. She and the dog mounted the steps again. She put her hand on the screen door handle but couldn't bring herself to pull it open. What if the guy was right inside the door waiting for her?
She had the gun. That should scare him off. With sudden decision, she jerked the door open and stepped into the entry. The darkness closed around her. She raced to the kitchen and reached the counter. Her outflung hand touched the bowl that had held her soup last night. Her fingers moved on until she touched the keys. Snatched them from the counter. Turned to run back outside.
And ran up against an immovable object. A giant of a man.
His hands came down on her arms, pinning her hands to her sides. He gave a soft chuckle. Shannon writhed away from his grip, but she couldn't shake his hands from her arms enough to bring up the gun. The near silent struggle in the dark kitchen, punctuated only by gasps, was the stuff of nightmares.
Moses barked and lunged at the man, who kicked him away, but the dog kept coming. Shannon heard fabric tear and realized Moses had taken a bite out of the guy's trousers, but the big man had been unperturbed.
"Where's my money?" he whispered in her ear.
"I don't know what you're talking about!" She wrenched her arm away, but his fingers didn't give.
His hand came up and wrapped around her hair, loose on her shoulders. "Pretty hair," he said. "It might not look so good torn out by the roots."
She winced when his grip tightened painfully. "I don't have any money." Her mind raced. Couldn't he tell by looking at this place that there was nothing of value here?
His voice could cut a diamond. "Don't play games with me. It's not ... healthy. We both know you have the money and we want it back. You've got a day to turn it over or someone you love will bear the consequences.
The pain in her head made her faint. "Don't hurt my daughter! I don't know what money you're talking about. I'd give it to you if I had it." What did she have? An old ranch house that was falling down around her ears. Nothing a man like this could want.
"I don't like games," he said in a cold voice. "I wouldn't hurt your daughter what kind of a man do you think I am? But your friend Mary Beth, well, that's another story. You've got twenty-four hours to hand it over."
"Mary Beth?" She should hav
e pressed her friend for details. Shannon's gut had told her something was wrong. "What kind of trouble is she in?"
He grinned, but the grimace held no mirth. "Her worst nightmare. Me. Yours, too, if you don't listen." His grip tightened on her hair. "I thought I'd stop by and give you motivation to listen to me."
If she could bring the pistol up and point it at him, she'd have a chance, but her hands had no room to maneuver. A flash of inspiration struck and she quit struggling. Standing passively with the man's hands gripping her, she waited.
Her acquiescence slackened his grasp. "You're going to cooperate, huh?" He sounded disappointed.
"Just tell me what you want," she said, keeping her voice resigned. "What money? How much?"
"I thought you were through playing games. The boss won't be happy." He leaned down and his breath touched her face. It smelled of cloves.
She turned her head and his lips grazed her cheek instead of her lips. His grip loosened even more, and she managed to bring up the gun and jab it into his ribs. "Let go of me," she snarled.
"Wha " He took a step back.
The added room gave her courage to point the gun higher, right at his heart. "I don't have any money. I don't know anything" She leaned over to flip on the light.
Her movement allowed him to whip around and dash for the door. As the bright light spilled into the room, Shannon caught only a glimpse of a broad back and dark hair above a denim jacket. She reflexively fired the gun. The bullet dug into the wall at his side, spewing plaster.
The screen door banged, and she heard the sound of feet running across the gravel. The wall propped her up or she would have fallen. Moses licked at her hand. "Thanks for helping me, boy." She sank to her knees and buried her face in his fur. His scent and warmth strengthened her. She stood again, holding tight to the gun, then hurried out to the porch with the keys. She should go upstairs and get dressed, but she had to get out of here before the guy came back.
She had no doubt he would be back. With a grudge.
WHEN THE SUN THREW A GOLDEN BLANKET OVER THE BLUE HILLS AROUND the ranch, Jack hadn't slept a wink. He'd been all too happy to climb out of bed at six and tend to the livestock. It gave him something to do to forget his circumstances.
By the time Enrica called him in for breakfast, he had come full circle back to the realization that there was no other way to ensure Faith stayed with him. He'd just agreed to marry a woman he didn't know. And while that was a scary thought, another frightening situation loomed.
He had to tell his parents. Today. This morning. Even now he could hear the rumble of his father's big Caddy.
He gulped down a last swig of strong coffee to fortify himself, then went out to the big porch to greet his parents. At least he wouldn't have to listen to his mother's cries for long. He had to get out to the training corral in another hour.
The hot breeze blew down from the hills, carrying with it the scent of mesquite. He loved this ranch, the pillars of black igneous rock that stood like ancient guardians along the hills, the desolate majesty, even the jackrabbits scrabbling over the hardpan desert. When he was a kid, his mother's housekeeper used to scare him with stories of the unforgiving land. The devil, she said, was sealed up in a cave on the south bank of the Rio Bravo del Norte. As a boy, Jack often watched the nearby mountains to make sure the devil didn't escape on a swing hung between them.
This country's other name was El Despoblado, the land of no people. More creatures than human inhabitants lived here, and Jack never wanted it to change. Development of the land was a topic of contention between him and his father. Now, watching his dad stride up the driveway with Jack's mother, Jack could see from the great Senator MacGowan's confident smile that he was here for a reason Jack wasn't going to like.
Jack stepped down to the brick walkway to embrace his mother, who hurried ahead of the senator. Her light flowery scent reached him before she did. When he hugged her, he could feel her ribs, but he knew better than to ask her if she was dieting. She was always dieting, and no amount of chiding on his part lessened her determination to fit into a size four.
He brushed his lips across her cheek. "Good to see you, Mom."
"Jacky, you're not dressed. Did you forget?" His mother's voice was softly reproachful.
"Forget?" Then it hit him. Several months ago his parents had coerced him into a trip to Austin to meet the daughter of another senator. "I'm not going to be able to make it, Mom." He turned from the hurt in her eyes to shake his dad's hand.
"What's this?" his father demanded while gripping Jack's hand. "Not going?You have to go. I paid two hundred dollars for your ticket."
"I'll pay you back, Dad." Jack gestured to the porch. "Coffee? Enrica made some killer coffee cake this morning to go with it."
"Don't change the subject," his father said, his scowl growing as dark as the hills. "Carleen is expecting you. Why, she even told her mama she'd bought a new dress. I won't be humiliated like this. Get your suit and get in the car. We don't have a lot of time to waste."
Jack didn't let his smile slip. His father would take advantage of any weakness. "I'm training horses, and there's an even more important reason I can't go. Sit down on the porch and let me explain." At least out here there was no chance of Faith overhearing.
His mother clung to his arm. "You should have called us," she whispered as he led her up the steps to the seating area at the end of the porch. "You know how your father hates to be caught off guard."
His father liked to know everything and reveal nothing. Jack shrugged. "I forgot." Like that excuse would satisfy either of them. He'd been so upside down with worry over losing Faith, he couldn't remember the last time he'd even looked at his calendar.
His mother settled onto the plush cushion and smoothed her skirt. The senator dropped into the seat beside her, and his brows came together. Jack didn't want to sit, but he forced himself to perch on a chair and appear nonchalant.
"What's this about, Jack?" his father demanded.
"It wouldn't be right to go out with another woman when I'm engaged." Nothing like dropping the bomb all at once. He waited for his mother's gasp and his father's brows to rise before plunging on. "In fact, I'm getting married a week from Saturday. I hope your schedules will allow you to come."
"Ma-married?" His mother put her hand to her throat. "You're teasing us, Son.
"I'm spot-on serious, Mom. Her name is Shannon Astor."
"Astor? As in old Earl Astor?" the senator put in. "His niece is the new vet in town."
"That's Shannon. My fiancee."
"I remember her," his mother said, tipping her head to one side. "She helped you and your sister with biology one year. Studious little thing, but no presence. She barely looked up from her books. And wasn't there some talk about her being not quite emotionally stable? Are you sure about this, Jacky?"
"I'm very sure. In spite of losing her parents, she went on to make something of herself. She's a good person. And one of the strongest women I know." To his surprise, he found he meant the words. Shannon was someone to be admired. She'd be a wonderful role model for the girls. He wanted Faith to grow up to be able to stand on her own. Shannon had done just that.
His father still had said nothing. He glanced at his watch. "We'd better go, poppet, or we'll be late." He rose and held out his hand.
His mother fluttered to her feet. "Senator, we need to talk about this." She put her hand on Jack's arm. "Don't rush into anything, Son."
"I'm not, Mom. Will you both come to the wedding? I know Leah can't." His sister was abroad.
His father put his hand on her shoulder and ushered her toward the steps before she answered. His glare pierced Jack.
Jack followed them. "Look, Dad, I'm not some puppet to be used to help you climb the political ladder." His dad turned with hooded eyes and tight lips. Jack knew he should have kept his mouth shut.
"Just what I would have expected you to say, Jack," the senior Jack MacGowan said. "You have never support
ed my dreams. All you want is wrapped up here in this ranch." He waved his hand toward the barns and outbuildings. "You could make something of yourself if you'd try. Yes, you're the rooster in this tiny yard, but you have it in you to be more than that to really be someone of substance."
"We don't all have to be in the limelight to be reaching our potential," Jack said, keeping his voice even. "There's something to be said for raising a family and being part of my community." He watched his mother flinch, then hurriedly get into the blue Cadillac and shut the door.
His dad snorted. "I suppose that's a slap at the way I was gone some when you were growing up. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made." He turned back to the car and got under the wheel.
"I don't want to sacrifice my daughter on the horns of my ambition," Jack said to the dust billowing from the back of his father's car. He stood and watched the wind catch the particles of sand and swirl them away. Just like his words.
9
AFTER FLEEING THE RANCH, SHANNON SPENT THE REST OF THE NIGHT AT THE Bluebird and decided, at Rick and Allie's urging, that was where she and Kylie would stay until the wedding.
All day, she barely went through the motions at the mustang camp. She was supposed to turn over the money whatever it was in a few hours to the big guy. But she was no closer to figuring out what they wanted. Would he really kill Mary Beth?
Rick's buddy had discovered nothing out of the ordinary in his check on Mary Beth. Grabbing a bottle of water from the big iced bucket by the mess hall, Shannon sat on the ground and pulled out her cell phone. No answering text message from Mary Beth, but then, Shannon hadn't expected one. Still, she'd hoped. Mary Beth's sister might know some thing, but Shannon didn't have a phone number. The guy wanted money. Could Mary Beth have put money in Shannon's account? It wouldn't be the first time. Mary Beth was always trying to help out without Shannon's knowing, though usually she could only spare small amounts like a hundred dollars. Still, it wouldn't hurt to check.
Lonestar Secrets Page 9
